Yesterday I woke up at 6am (yes! really! it does exist!) but delayed getting out of bed for a whole 70 minutes, after which I went into town to go to a Mozilla MDN hack event at their new London office. There were bagels and everything! (except, dammit, proper coffee.)
I listened to talks, I took an interest in the job openings they have (ahuh, yeah, that's been a shock), and wrote some code based around HTML5 and Canvas.
And I presented my bit of work to the assembled throngs, having got it into a semi-presentable state while others were demoing, such that I was the last one up. And it went well, I thought.
And I came home and did stuff and all was well with the world.
:: cut to some hours later ::
I'm now watching the RedSox game and hacking some more on the code I'd been working on earlier in the day when I note a email has arrived telling me that someone at the hackday had posted their pictures on flickr. So I go for a look-see.
And see the final pic.
It is of me.
It makes me look absolutely FUGLY. No question it is absolutely revolting. Which means, irrefutably, that I am.
The photographer is not at fault, nor is his camera (though as mine is the last photo uploaded maybe I broke the lens - wouldn't surprise me) but it has really brought home to me just how terrible I look to others. I can't really continue looking in the mirror before I go out and think I'm 'ok' 'cos I can see for myself that I'm really *really* not.
I'm not sure what to do about this new knowledge. I've got Paul to delete the photo but that isn't stopping my brain from dwelling on it and upsetting me through the night and today. I'm really not feeling like ever going out again, or maybe throwing acid at my face or something just to give me an excuse. Well, not likely (I'm not good with _receiving_ pain) but that is the 'state of the brane'.
Time was when I would turn heads *towards* me, now I want to turn my own head away from me and can quite understand why I'm in the lack-of-relationship-or-sex state I'm in.
awww shit.